The Queen's Sacrifice
by Nona Decima Morta
Summary: What if Catherine of Aragon offered Henry VIII her own annulment contract? What would the consequences - or benefits - be for Princess Mary, Anne Boleyn and Henry himself? Would her sacrifice change England's fate and give Mary ultimate happiness? Oneshot. Not for Anne fans.


May, 1527

It was another evening when Catherine of Aragon, Queen of England supped alone in a room filled with silence, the clinking of jewelled goblets, golden utensils and shiny platters, the only source of music in the hallowed halls.

She sipped wine from her goblet, her hand shaking a little.

It did not match the ache in her heavy heart, or a whirl of unhappy emotions stirring inside of her chest.

"Your Majesty, the King is here."

Hope lit up on Catherine's face as her husband, King Henry VIII of England walked in and sat on the chair opposite her. Optimism in her eyes dimmed slightly as she noticed he did not greet her with his usual charming smile.

"Husband," said Catherine cautiously. "Would you care for some wine?"

"No thank you," said Henry distractedly. He speared a slice of meat and chewed it, his blue eyes darting oddly around the room.

From seventeen years of marriage, Catherine knew there was something on his mind.

Something significant.

"It has been a while," she said, delicately taking a bit of pie. "Many evenings you choose to dine with your friends, or have feasts with the courtiers. When was the last time we supped together alone? A few months ago perhaps?"

"We have to talk," said Henry, rubbing his hands together as he leant forward, his appetite running away. "However, it is a rather...ah...delicate matter."

"Your mistress is pregnant again?" said Catherine lightly, remembering the humiliating moment when the news of his bastard son with Bessie Blount was announced. "Shall I be expecting another bastard in the nursery?"

Of course the royal nursery had been empty for some time, with their only child, Princess Mary, a girl of eleven in her own household tucked away in Ludlow Castle in Wales. Even Bessie Blount's bastard, Henry Fitzroy, Duke of Somerset, continued his own education in his own household in Bridewell Palace.

Henry flushed. "Don't call my son a bastard!"

"But that is what he is," said Catherine pleasantly. "Is that the important, delicate matter you wish to speak about, dear husband? The welfare of your bastard?"

"No." He took a deep breath. "It is to...to do with our marriage and for the good and safety of England. We have been married for seventeen years, Catherine, and I do not regret it for a moment."

Catherine's heart began pounding and she felt herself whiten with worry.

"However," said Henry, not meeting her gaze. "We have been living together in sin for those seventeen years. God is displeased with us, which is why he did not grant us a son."

"He gave us Mary," she heard herself say.

"Yes, and she is beautiful and precocious child. However, England needs a son."

"What are you implying, husband? I was a virgin when I married you! Arthur was weak and sickly! He was no husband to me!"

"I want a divorce."

Catherine stared at him. She had suspected his secretiveness and unease had to do with a woman, but did not expect matters to be _that _drastic.

Her left hand shook as she clenched her fingers around the knife to such an extent that she could not steady it as she usually could.

"I want a divorce," Henry repeated, more stronger than before. "I need my son and England needs its heir."

"No," said Catherine, gritting her teeth. "You have Mary."

"Oh Catherine!" He sighed with exasperation. "You know as well as I do that a woman cannot rule England!"

"My mother ruled Castile."

"Well, this isn't Castile, is it?"

"Who is this woman that had beguiled you? One of royal blood? A duke's daughter?"

The King glared at her. "Lady Anne Boleyn."

_A knight's daughter_, thought Catherine bitterly, her lips pressing tightly together. _One of my ladies-in-waiting too. Boleyn...Boleyn, Boleyn, Boleyn...ah! The newly created Earl of Wiltshire's daughter. Anne Boleyn...her sister Mary was Henry's mistress a few years ago. I always thought that girl was too clever for her own good._

"Well?" said Henry impatiently, wishing he was dining with his beloved Anne, rather than facing an expressionless Catherine.

"I need to think," was Catherine's cool response.

"What is there to think about?! I want a divorce. You have failed in delivering England a son, and it is my duty to have heirs! Will you sign it if I stay the night with you?" It pained him to say that, but he would do anything to end his marriage with Catherine.

"I need to think."

She stood up, curtsied and walked into her bedchambers, shutting the door behind her with a loud slam.

Her loyal lady-in-waiting and confidante, Dona Maria de Salinas, Baroness Willoughby de Eresby, put down her embroidery and looked at her expectedly.

"If anyone wishes to see me, tell them I will not see anyone tonight," Catherine told her as she clutched her cross tentatively. "No matter if it is a messenger or my lord husband, I do not wish to see anyone."

"Yes, Your Majesty," said Maria faithfully.

"Especially the King," Catherine reiterated as she knelt in front of her prie-dieu. "Above all people, I do not wish to see him."

* * *

><p>Disturbed by Catherine's unexpected behaviour, Henry retreated to his chambers and brooded in front of the fireplace instead of summoning Anne as he had originally planned earlier that day.<p>

His eyes landed on the ceremonial bed and he smiled as he remembered all those women he sported with over the years. _Bessie Blount_...he mused. _Ah, she was good. Mary Boleyn, heh, heh, she knew how to please a man_...other names and images appeared in his mind, and they froze as his eyes dwelled on the ragged cloth on the table.

Curiously, he picked it up and his mind burst with familiar memories.

Memories of Catherine.

* * *

><p><em>She was still Catalina, Dowager Princess of Wales and a prisoner at Durham House. She was young, beautiful and in his eyes, a damsel in distress.<em>

_He too, was only the Prince of Wales when he went to Durham House to visit his widowed sister-in-law for the first time in many months - perhaps even many years. When he was announced to her, he saw beauty radiating from the Spanish Infanta in contrast to his miserly father, Henry VII, who only saw wealth in the form of her unpaid dowry and a much needed alliance with Spain._

_There were rumours that he would marry either Archduchess Eleanora of Austria - Catalina's niece - or a French princess, but once he laid eyes on Catalina, he knew she was the princess he wanted to marry. Even with the Bible drilled into him twice over, he did not care; Catalina would be his wife and future queen. _

_"Your Highness," she had said that day, in the most melodious tone he had ever heard. "I did not expect you here."_

_"It is the anniversary of my lady mother's death," said Henry quietly, frowning slightly at the squalor conditions of Durham House. "Father is in seclusion, and My Lady, the King's Mother, is occupied in prayers. They did not know I came here to see you. I always asked for your presence in Court, but they always said no. I worry for you, Catalina. With no family here in England and not enough money to run a household, why don't you go home to Spain? You are a princess! You should be treated better!"_

_"It is kind of Your Highness to concern himself with a widow like me. God called me to England for a reason, and I will respect his wishes."_

_"You are beautiful, Catalina. You were when you first arrived to marry my brother, and your beauty has grown."_

_"Thank you, Your Highness." A rosy blush had risen on her white cheeks._

_Henry smiled. He liked it when Catalina sounded happy._

_"I must go," he said regretfully, as the sound of shouting guards was within earshot. "I hope I will see you again. I will try to convince my father to allow you back in Court for Easter." He bowed and turned to leave._

_"Wait."_

_Henry faced her and to his surprise, she pressed a small square piece of black cloth onto the palm of his hand._

_He looked at it. _

_Embroidered on the black material was a Tudor rose. Adorning it was a miniature crown and on its right was a sceptre, its left; a sword. _

_"I meant to give it to you when you invested the prince of Wales," Catalina explained, looking away a little. "Even though I married Arthur, I knew deep inside that it would be you...that would've made the better king."_

_Henry was speechless._

_No one had ever spoken so kindly to him before. At family dinners (when his elder brother Arthur, and their mother, Elizabeth of York were alive and their sister Margaret was still in England), Arthur had always been complimented and said to be the better king, with Henry reminded that he would have a prosperous ecclesiastical career._

_"Th-thank you, Catalina," he managed to say._

_He was rewarded with a shy smile from the Spanish Infanta._

_"I will rescue you from this prison," he vowed more confidently, taking her hand. "When I am king, my first duty is to rescue you. I promise." _

_He chivalrously kissed her hand and left._

_A few months later, King Henry VII died and Henry, Prince of Wales became king. He kept his promise and as her knight in shining armour, he rescued Catalina from imprisonment in Durham House and made her his queen._

* * *

><p>Sunlight streamed brightly through the heavy curtains and shook Henry awake. He opened an eye and frowned.<p>

He was still on his chair in front of the now smoking fireplace with the goblet of unfinished wine on the small table beside him. He slowly sat up, and realised he was holding the old piece of cloth against his chest.

He remembered last night's talk with Catherine, and felt slightly guilty for suddenly approaching her on such a delicate matter of annulment.

After all, it was not her fault that Anne was younger, more witty, fresh from sin and fertile enough to bear sons!

Henry reached for a quill and scrawled quickly onto a piece of parchment.

He planned to be extremely generous to Catherine - after all, she is still a royal princess - if she agreed to a divorce.

_If you agree to an annulment_, he wrote, feeling pleased with himself. _You will receive the title and style 'Her Royal Highness, the Duchess of Richmond' along with all the assets and estates associated with the dukedom, and you will further receive the titles 'Countess of Lancaster' and 'Baroness Pembroke' and an annuity of five thousand five hundred pounds. I will also bestow upon you three royal residences of your own choosing and precedence over all the ladies of the Court with the exception of the future Queen Anne Boleyn and any daughter I am to have with her. You will be permitted to have contact with our daughter Mary, and she will be granted permission to reside with you._

He rolled up the parchment and decided he would hand it to Catherine herself, rather than to send it via a messenger or servant. After all, only three people were aware of the idea of divorce; him, Catherine and Anne. It wouldn't be long before the entire Court hears of it, but he hoped it would be after Catherine peacefully agrees. That is, unless Anne tells her friends and rather large family.

Henry headed towards Catherine's chambers, and a thought struck his mind.

He smiled broadly; he now had a new card to play; Mary.

_I shall invite my Pearl back to Court,_ he thought gleefully as the doors to Catherine's rooms came within sight. _Catherine will be delighted! She always wanted Mary here for more than Christmas, Easter and birthday celebrations!_

If all the divorce settlement estates and wealth fails to conciliate her, it would surely be Mary at Court that will.

As he entered her chambers, unease settled in his mind.

How would he tell his beloved Pearl the news of her parents' annulment, and what would she think of Anne as a new stepmother?

He found an expressionless Catherine eating breakfast by herself.

She must've finished her prayers.

"Catherine," he said, sitting in front of her. "I apologise for last night. I should have known it was a much too sensitive topic to demand a hasty answer from. Here." He handed her the annulment terms. "I hope this will...comfort you enough."

Giving him a cynical look, Catherine quickly skimmed through the paper and laughed.

"Does something amuse you?" said Henry uncertainly.

In one neat movement, she ripped the contract in half.

She glanced at it and in Henry's opinion, did the most unnatural thing Catherine of Aragon would do, but an ordinary woman would; she cried.

Tears streamed down Catherine's face and she sobbed so heartbreakingly that it would've broken any man's heart; except Henry's, who has been robbed of his by the enchanting and alluring Anne Boleyn.

Henry glanced around and looked at her uncomfortably. Divorce had been in his mind for days. Why couldn't Catherine see that he no longer loved her anymore? It was Anne who stole his heart. The wisest move Catherine could do is to step aside, sign the annulment papers and retire from Court.

Maria hurried in and handed Catherine a fresh handkerchief.

"It may be in Your Majesty's best interest to leave," she said apologetically to Henry. "Her Majesty is not well."

"I can see that," said Henry dryly. He rose and looked at Catherine. "Think about the terms I am offering you. I will be more generous to you after you sign the divorce papers. Even if you are no longer my wife, you are still my widowed sister-in-law, and I won't humiliate you by informing my ministers to send a letter to the Pope for a divorce."

"Humiliate me further?!" spat Catherine in between frantic sobs. "You have already embarrassed me enough by declaring love for a commoner rather than to me! Me! Your wife of seventeen years!"

Henry left, dismissing her words as that of a hysterical wife.

* * *

><p>After a day of hunting with Anne and the other Boleyns and Howards who had appeared suddenly in Court, Henry returned to Catherine's chambers.<p>

He was astonished to see the dining hall empty.

"Where is she?" he asked, turning to Maud (nee' Green), Lady Parr, another one of Catherine's trusted ladies-in-waiting. "Where is Catherine?"

"In her private chambers," Lady Parr informed him. "She has been in there all day, Your Majesty. Writing. She asked not to be disturbed. Is there anything you wish for me to say to the Queen, Your Majesty?"

Henry shook his head. "I will have breakfast with her tomorrow morning."

"I will tell the Queen that at once, Your Majesty."

Henry nodded and departed wordlessly.

* * *

><p>Henry waited for Catherine, his stomach growling with hunger. A minute before he decided to give up, Catherine sat in front of him, her eyes mixed between determination, sadness and tiredness.<p>

Silently, she handed him a rolled up piece of parchment.

"What is this?" said Henry suspiciously.

"My divorce conditions," said Catherine shortly.

_I, Catherine, Queen of England_, read Henry. _Agree to the annulment between me and His Majesty, King Henry VIII of England on the grounds of consanguinity on the following conditions. One: My title reverts back to 'Her Royal Highness, Infanta Catalina of Castile and Aragon'. Two: If the matter of divorce is announced to the Court, it will always be on the grounds of consanguinity, never because of my first marriage to the late Arthur Tudor. Three: One month's notice before the annulment is to be signed. Four: Our daughter Mary remains legitimate and heiress presumptive until the Lady Anne Boleyn gives birth to a son, and she will always be ahead of any of your daughters with the Lady Anne Boleyn. Five: For the month before our divorce, we will try to live as our daughter sees us; a happy couple much in love. Six: In every joust, you will be my 'Sir Loyal Heart' and dance with me in every masquerade and festivity._

He looked at her questioningly. "Why the last point?"

"Indulge me," said Catherine pleasantly. "We are to be divorced and you will never see me again in Court. It is a simple request I trust."

Henry read it again, this time more seriously. Clearly she did not want his settlements or titles. His Anne would bear him a brood of bonny sons, so it would not hurt to keep Mary in the line of succession, and it would save England from having Spain as an enemy if Mary remained ahead of Anne's daughters.

"Very well," said Henry, with a shrug. If those terms make Catherine happy enough to sign the annulment papers, so be it. "There will be dancing at tonight's feast. If you wish for me to dance with you, be there tonight."

Catherine smiled thinly.

"Till the feast then, dear husband," she acknowledged. "I will be praying today and hope not to be disturbed."

* * *

><p>"She what?!"<p>

Anne laughed scornfully once Henry informed her Catherine's divorce terms. Her brother George, Viscount Rochford, managed to hold a straight face.

"Indeed," said Henry, his eyes glued to Anne's every movement. "I found the last point particularly unusual, but if it allows me to finally marry you, so be it. It is unfortunate that she insists on our divorce only on the grounds of consanguinity, but it is still good enough grounds for divorce after all. However, Mary still remains my heir."

"Do not fret, my king," said Anne, battering her long, attractive eyelashes at him. "Once we marry, I will bear you many sons, and the Tudor line will be secure. Mary will no longer be your heir. You do not have to worry."

"I wish I met you before I met Catherine," murmured Henry, desperately wanting to touch

her and see her donned from head to toe in jewels. "It would have been perfect, and we would be parents to many sons already..."

Anne laughed again.

"We will be parents soon enough," she said sweetly. "Parents of perfect sons."

It was the dream Henry sought for and she evidently knew how to play her cards well. Lady Anne Boleyn was indeed a lady with a sleeve full of tricks.

* * *

><p>Courtiers gasped as Henry entered the great hall, holding Catherine's hand. It had been months – even years – that the King and Queen went to feasts separately. Even on state occasions when the couple attended together, they never held hands.<p>

There were immediate whispers and stares.

"...I heard the King is enticed by Lady Anne Boleyn!"

"...What in God's name is happening?"

"...Finally! The King has sense! He has abandoned his whores for his true wife!"

Like a chivalrous knight, Henry helped Catherine into her seat first before his. Catherine smiled back at him.

From her place with the other ladies-in-waiting, Anne gritted her teeth, hatred boiling in her veins as Henry seemed happy that Catherine smiled at him.

_Only I can pleasure him!_ Anne thought furiously. _That Spanish cow will pay!_ She shot a particularly dirty look at a giggling girl beside her. Her mood worsened when she saw the King feed Catherine the juiciest and most tender section of a piece of steak from his own fork. Her fingers curled into a fist in anger.

What was the King playing at, pretending to be the perfect husband for the Spanish bitch who would be banished from Court in a month?!

"Well, well. Isn't this refreshing?"

Her sly uncle, Thomas Howard, 3rd Duke of Norfolk, slid onto the vacant chair beside her, his eyes glittering with intrigue.

"Lord uncle," muttered Anne, visibly shaking with fury. "What do you want now?"

"Look at that," smirked Norfolk, watching Catherine laugh at a jest the King uttered. "Our dear Queen seems to be acting in the manner of a fresh bride rather than the old crone that she actually is! Now I believe you told your father that you can control the King's affections by yourself. Is that still the case, dear niece? If you wish for me to help, let me know. If you ask me, the best way to remove threats is through poison. Nice and discreet. I may have rid myself of a few that way." He chuckled darkly.

Anne laughed uneasily.

"It won't be long," she said confidently. "She may be laughing with His Majesty now, but in a week's time, she will be weeping."

"Ooh...look," said Norfolk, his eyes firmly placed on the King and Catherine. "Well...this is an interesting feast indeed. The King is leading his beloved Queen to the dance floor. When's the last time they danced together? A few years ago, hmm?"

Colour drained from Anne's face as she saw the royal couple dance. The sight stabbed her heart as – for once – it wasn't she at the King's side, but her enemy. Her calm exterior almost shattered as the truth dawned on her; _he was happy._

* * *

><p><em>Jovial laughter spread through the feasting hall, drenching the sound of music the Court musicians played dutifully in the nightly celebrations of the birth of 'the New Year's Boy', little Prince Henry, Duke of Cornwall.<em>

_Even when the little Prince slept soundly in his royal cradle, guarded by a ferocious army of wet nurses and servants, his parents celebrated. His birth marked the end of a long period of suspicion and unease, and the beginning of a new era of prosperity, nationalism and cultural advancement. There had not been such a magnificent merriment since the feasting days of Edward IV – even Henry's coronation festivities weren't as lavish!_

_Henry joked with his companions and danced with his younger sister, the beautiful and feisty Princess Mary, but he always returned to talk, eat, drink and dance with Catherine. There was no doubt that he was utterly devoted to his Spanish wife._

_"Our son will be the perfect prince!" boasted Henry, taking another swig of ale. "Cat! Sir Thomas More said he will be a tutor to our boy!"_

_Catherine laughed and smiled appreciatively at Sir Thomas._

_She had done her duty; England has an heir and she has a son. _

_"I will always love you," said Henry, kissing her without care that they were subjected to stares by many courtiers. "Even if wild horses threaten to drag you away, I will always love you, dear Cat. Nothing will ever separate us. Tomorrow, my newest naval ship will set sail on the sea. I will call her 'HMS Catalina', after you. Everyone will see our love and my devotion to you. My next two ships will be 'HMS Queen Catherine' and 'HMS Pomegranate', both after you. Every year on our wedding anniversary, it will be declared a public holiday and the people will receive free wine. You had faith in me when others didn't, and I will always have faith in you as my wife and queen. When I invade France, you will be England's regent. It will be a magnificent sight, eh, with the French crown on my head? Your sister is the Queen of Castile in her own right, but you will be queen of two kingdoms."_

_"You will go to war?" said Catherine, a shiver of fear running through her spine. _

_"Of course! Do not fear, Cat. You will be safe here in England. Perhaps we may have a duke of York when I return?" He gave her a roguish wink._

_Catherine remained worried. "I will miss you when you are gone..."_

_Henry kissed her again._

_"I will always think of you," he promised. "Ever since my brother died, I knew it would be you who will be mother of my sons. It is your success which is why we celebrate today. You gave me – and England – an heir. Without you, England will be a battlefield once more. I will always love you. Here." From his pocket, he produced a handkerchief. Embroidered on it was a crown, surrounded by a wreath of alternating Tudor roses and pomegranates. With a shy smile, he handed it to Catherine._

_"I'm not good at...womanly activities," apologised Henry sheepishly. "My sister Mary had to help me out-" Before he could continue, Catherine sealed his lips with a kiss._

_After a minute, they broke apart, staring at each other deeply in their eyes._

_"I love you," Henry said simply. "I will always love you, even if we grow old with no children, or we live like penniless peasants."_

_A few weeks later, the infant Duke of Cornwall died of unknown causes._

* * *

><p>Blood rushing into his head and his forehead coated with sweat, Henry bolted upright on his bed, his heart pounding furiously.<p>

That dream..._no_. A memory...

His Cat...

Unable to sleep, he stood up and headed to the window. He pulled the curtains away and saw the sun blush as it slowly rose to its throne from the horizon. Henry glanced down and noticed it was the garden he first professed his love to Anne – no, Catherine. He fervently shook the thoughts out of his mind. He was going on another hunt today with Anne, and she would be furious if she discovered he was dreaming unintentionally about Catherine.

_What is the matter with me?!_ Henry thought grouchily. _Why am I having these dreams about Catherine?! By God, I'm getting a divorce from her soon enough! Hopefully those dreams will cease by then!_

When he joined Catherine – and an obviously unhappy Anne – in the great hall after Mass, he could not help but stare at Catherine, his mind filled with the memories of her in the early years of their marriage.

Even during his hunting trip with Anne, his mind was uneasily loaded with Catherine's soothing words and lovely smiles.

Forgetting her was harder than he thought.

* * *

><p>For a whole month in every celebration and festivity, Henry kept his promise and danced with Catherine, always declaring himself her 'Sir Loyal Heart'. Gradually, he found himself more drawn to her than before. It was also a relief for him to escape Anne's constant complaints and tantrums on a daily basis.<p>

One day, when he danced with Catherine, he noticed she looked thinner and more worn out. "Are you alright?" he asked, as she almost collapsed on the last step of the galliard, her hands more clammy than usual.

"I am fine," said Catherine tiredly. "You keep dancing, I will sit down."

Frowning slightly, Henry obliged and went to dance with Anne, who had lavishly dressed in a Burgundy red French-cut gown, decorated with tiny seeds of pearls. She even dared to dance with her lustrous dark hair cascading down her back, contrasting seriously with the conservative Catherine, who always wore an English gable hood.

"I cannot believe you abandoned me again!" hissed Anne, as she twirled.

"What do you ever mean?" said Henry, irritated a little.

"You used to call me your dearest dove and would always dance with me first! Why are you dancing with that old cow-"

Henry tightened his grasp around her wrist.

"Do not let me hear you say that again," he warned in a deadly tone, sending a shiver down Anne's spine. "You speak of Catherine of Aragon, my Queen and wife. If you dare insult her again, you will find yourself banished from Court. Forever."

* * *

><p>Princess Mary arrived at Court, eager to see her mother. She had heard disturbing rumours of her father divorcing her saintly mother for his whoring mistress, who was whispered to be a witch and a dabbler in heresy. She could not believe her loving father would <em>dare <em>commit her mother to such sorrow and despair. She was certain that her father was mistaken and was under Anne Boleyn's enchantment.

Her belief intensified when she saw her royal father embrace her mother shortly upon her arrival in the late afternoon.

"My Pearl," said the King fondly, kissing Mary's forehead before she could even curtsey. "I'm pleased you can arrive so quickly! You look well!"

"You and Mama still love each other!" Mary could not resist saying happily.

Her father looked slightly bewildered, yet amused. "What do you mean?"

"I heard you were enchanted by Anne Boleyn, but I always believed it was false! I always knew you loved Mama and still do!" She smiled so brightly that it almost broke Henry's heart. How could he dare tell his beloved Pearl that he would still marry his dear Anne by the end of the month?

* * *

><p>A few days before the end of July, the truth finally dawned on Henry; he no longer felt in love with Anne.<p>

All the promises, poems and songs he made were due to infatuation, not love. It was Catherine who held his heart again.

It was Catherine who he always – and truly – loved.

"Anne," he said uncomfortably, lingering near the door of Anne's apartments one quiet afternoon. "I am not here to stay. Um...I'm not pushing Catherine for an annulment anymore. I don't want to break her heart any further. Moreover, our betrothal is over."

Anne stared at him, stunned.

"You're jesting," she laughed uneasily. "You love me! Besides, you need sons, and I can give you many legitimate boys!"

"I don't care," said Henry, wincing a little, but keeping a calm exterior. "I have Mary, and she will make a fine Queen Regnant of England. However, you will be given the marquessate of Pembroke in your own right, and I have arranged for you to marry Henry Percy, 6th Earl of Northumberland. You will retain your position at Court, but from this moment, our betrothal is over. Good day, my lady."

Leaving her speechless, he bowed abruptly and left, heading towards the gardens. Like a lovesick peasant, Henry picked a bouquet of beautiful flowers – red and white roses – that were a favourite of Catherine's, before going immediately to Catherine's chambers. He was shocked to see her paler appearance, but nothing could ruin his day. His love for Catherine was as strong as ever, and this time, he will love her till their deaths.

"You will always be my queen," he said, swooping down and kissing her passionately, before handing her the bouquet of flowers shyly. He grabbed the annulment papers on Catherine's table and ripped them to shreds.

He pulled out the old piece of cloth and showed it to her.

"I still have it," he said, wiping away the tears that glistened like diamonds on her pallid cheeks. "All this time, and I still have the first piece of embroidery you gave me that day in Durham House. I promised you once that I will always love you, and I intend to keep that promise till our dying day."

"I also have news," said Catherine, with a sniffle. "I checked with the physician this morning, and I found out...I am with child."

* * *

><p>Mourning bells chimed throughout England on the rainy day in March. Women wept and children cried at the departure of their Good Queen Catherine.<p>

A few days earlier in Richmond Palace, Catherine had laboured and gave birth to another weak daughter that was immediately christened 'Isabel'. By the afternoon, Catherine was ill with the familiar symptoms of childbed fever.

Henry lurked the corridors outside her chambers like a wandering ghost, baby Isabel's feeble cries like the sobs of the desperate and those without hope. Mary prayed for her mother and baby sister endlessly in the chapel, shadows appearing under her eyes on the morning of the third day. Anne was nowhere to be seen.

All of England went into mourning when Catherine's death was announced. She was buried with the utmost pomp in St George's Chapel in Windsor Castle, and Henry commissioned a statue of her in every courtyard and town square.

It seemed God decided to punish Henry further when he cloaked Isabel a week after Catherine's death, leaving him in the pits of despair and sadness.

For a whole decade, Henry mourned the loss of his wife and child, with only Will Somers able to crack a smile on the King's face.

No one dared to shove their daughters and sisters under his nose, except Sir Edward Seymour, who was sent to the Tower, and his unwilling sister – Jane Seymour – mercifully allowed to enter a convent. Henry remained a widower for the remainder of his life and grew close to his only daughter and successor, Mary.

True to his word, Henry remained in love with Catherine until his peaceful death.

* * *

><p>Mary eventually married Philip, Duke of Bavaria and had four children – Henry, Prince of Wales, Princess Catharine, Princess Isabel and Prince Arthur – and ruled with a steady hand as the first female monarch of England.<p>

Unlike her Tudor predecessors, she maintained the people's love and respect, and was hailed as 'Good Queen Mary'. She even befriended the more humble Anne, and witnessed the marriage of her son, Prince Henry to Anne's only child (and daughter), Lady Elizabeth Percy – a love match.

Catherine of Aragon was always remembered by her descendants, and it was said she died happy and with a smile on her face, with the foresight that her daughter Mary would be the first Queen Regnant of England.

* * *

><p><strong>I kind of lost the path near the end, but I hope you like it! :) I was inspired by this story <span> notesbubzbeauty-official/if-ure-in-a-relationship-married-or-none-read-this-ull-know-why-at-the-end/418551020417 and decided to write a Tudor version. I had a little trouble coming up with the title, but decided on 'The Queen's Sacrifice' as Catherine would do anything - even sacrifice her own happiness - for Mary. **


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